


Skate Like a Lover, Dream with Desire

by Caeseria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Victor prefers hands-on coaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: Victor explains the theory behind Eros, and Yuuri is more than willing to listen.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [svana_vrika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/gifts).



> First story in new fandom. *panics* Written for my darling Svana's birthday. This also goes out to all the Yaoi-con binches, who all seem to have birthdays in October and I love you all. <3
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](http://caeseria.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi, or leave a prompt!
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuuri is a hot mess, to put it mildly.  After a five-year absence, he’d returned home to Hasetsu, following a humiliating defeat in his first Grand Prix Finale.  He’d skated Victor Nikiforov’s winning routine for his friend, Yuko, and the video had been uploaded to the internet and gone viral.  In April, Victor himself had suddenly appeared at the family onsen, _Yu-topia_ , and informed Yuuri he was going to be his coach.  

A couple of weeks later, and Yuuri is very much trying _not_ to think about Victor, gloriously naked in the onsen, because he’s pretty much convinced he’ll either have an emotional meltdown or faint.  So, instead, after another restless night’s sleep full of dreams he can’t really remember, he gets up early, slips out of the house, and runs all the way to the rink.  Running clears his mind; he can focus on the beat of his heart, the rhythm of his breathing, the burn in his lungs as he extends his legs and _pushes_ himself.  He’s able to keep that mindful clarity as he steps onto the ice.  The ice is fresh; he can tell by the sound his skates make on the surface.  He begins to warm up and then moves to practicing figures, still in a meditative state of mind, focusing on moving, not thinking. 

He’s doing a good job of remaining in the present until he catches movement out of the corner of his eye and sees Victor stretching at the boards.  He wonders how long he’s been there, but all Victor does is wave, and then move onto the ice.  Yuuri pauses, watches Victor skate towards him.  Victor is all focused intensity, gaze locked to Yuuri’s, and Yuuri swallows around a mouth suddenly gone dry with anticipation.  He’s very aware they are alone in the rink, the way every little sound echoes in the space, amplified.  Victor comes to a sweeping halt in front of Yuuri, ice kicking up from under his blades with a crisp, _shhhing_ sound.

“Yuuri,” he says in a sing-song voice, head tilted to the side. 

Yuuri nods back, waiting for Victor to explain what he’s doing here so early.  They don’t exactly have practice scheduled, and Victor usually doesn’t show up until both his prodigies are on the ice. 

“Show me what you have so far,” Victor says finally and, as if hypnotised, Yuuri begins to skate.  He’s been thinking desperately about the whole concept of Eros, which Victor has assigned to him as his piece for the competition.  Yuuri knows he’s much more suited to the role of Agape; he has more than enough passing familiarity with that concept.  He may be twenty-three, but he’s not exactly had much time to explore the sexual aspects of love, is much more familiar with the romantic notion of holding someone on a pedestal, of admiring their perfection safely from afar.  He’s been doing that for years: until two days ago his room was a veritable shrine to Victor, and he the guardian. 

Victor watches him silently, and Yuuri is starting to panic inside, the clarity from earlier crumbling by the second under that intense gaze.  Eventually, Yuuri finishes, breath catching in his chest, and waits.

Victor glides over the ice, circling around him.  “Good,” he says after a moment, coming to a stop behind Yuuri, who turns his head to look over his shoulder.  Victor is smiling; that sharp predatory smile that Yuuri has become familiar with over the last few days.  That smile means Victor is about to offer up some cutting comment, couched in polite terms, of course.  That often makes it worse; nobody should be able to offer criticism with a smile and Victor seems to be a master at it.  Maybe it’s just a Russian thing, he thinks. 

Abruptly, Victor is right behind him, so close that Yuuri can almost feel his body heat.  Yuuri feels the startling touch of Victor’s fingers on his bare forearms, a quick caress sending a thrill of desire along Yuuri’s nerves, and then strong hands come to rest on his hips, a gentle weight that makes Yuuri squirm internally and his face flush.  He can feel Victor’s breath against the nape of his neck and Yuuri is frozen, heart pounding suddenly in a chest that feels all-too-tight, butterflies roiling in his stomach.  He’s never had a coach that was so… _hands on_ before, and Yuuri has trouble focusing.

“Tell me; what do you know of Eros, Yuuri?” Victor whispers into his ear.  His words break through Yuuri’s mental fog and he turns his head enough that he can almost feel the brush of Victor’s bangs against his cheek. 

“Um, I - ” Yuuri sputters. 

Victor shifts behind him, fingers tightening and then releasing against his hips.  “Ah, I thought so,” he says in a knowing tone, and Yuuri wants to take offence, but knows that whatever information Victor is about to impart will be invaluable to his career if he wants to continue skating competitively.  Victor never speaks falsehood, at least not on the ice.  Here his word is law, and Yuuri will listen.  “To dance to Eros’ tune, Yuuri, you need to know your body, yes?”

Yuuri nods, ignoring the feeling of heat rising in his face again, trying to concentrate.  He resolutely stares ahead because, if he even attempts to move, he’ll lose what little composure he has left.

Victor either doesn’t notice Yuuri’s discomfort or, more likely, ignores it this once.  “It’s not just knowing how to skate, or how to perform a set series of movements to get yourself from point A to B while looking pretty,” Victor explains.  Every word is a breath of air across Yuuri’s sensitive neck, and he can feel the fine hairs at his nape react, and a delicious shiver travel down his spine, heat settling in his stomach.  He closes his eyes, all the better to focus on Victor’s voice.  “ _Eros_ is more than conveying feeling, Yuuri.  You need to understand what it is from every pore of your body.”

 _Easier said than done_ , Yuuri thinks.  His sum experience with Eros is… nil; only a single kiss to show for the length of his teenaged years.  He’s spent most of his life in the rink, not making friends or dating.  The friends he has now have come to him through skating, or through circumstance, not because he sought them out.  Suddenly this whole Eros thing seems an insurmountable problem, one he probably can’t overcome.

He’s going to fail, and Victor is going to go back to Russia and train Yurio instead.

He feels Victor tighten his grip suddenly on his hips and pull him backward, until Yuuri’s ass is pressed into the cradle of Victor’s hips.  At the same time, he feels Victor’s muscular chest against his back, and Yuuri forgets to breathe.  Victor’s hands slide around, stopping just shy of resting anywhere obscene, and then Victor moves, pushing backward with one skate and they are gliding slowly across the ice.  Yuuri is trapped, and has to move with Victor, or risk breaking contact.  Victor is still pressed against Yuuri, using his hands on his hips to direct him.  It’s like couple’s skating, except Victor seems to be taking it a step further, his entire body in contact with Yuuri, no safe distance between them.  He can’t see what Victor is doing, but Yuuri can _feel_ it, in the movement of Victor’s muscles.  He’s done ballet for years, along with ice skating, and he can visualize what Victor is attempting to convey.  He allows himself to move with Victor, and it’s almost like dirty dancing, the way they move in unison across the ice.  After a few minutes, when Yuuri thinks he’s just beginning to understand, Victor whispers into Yuuri’s ear, “Do you know why I came here to be your coach?”

Yuuri shakes his head, the movement aborted somewhat since Victor is so near.  “When I saw you copying my routine, I was astonished,” he continues.  “I’ve known for a long time that perfection isn’t everything; it can be sterile in its very flawlessness.  You have an air of vulnerable sensuality about you when you skate, Yuuri.  In you, I see a chance to experience that innocent wonder again.”

Yuuri is speechless.  His movements falter, suddenly out of synch with Victor’s, and he stumbles.  Victor’s hands tighten on his hips, sliding up to his waist to steady him, and Yuuri can feel the heat of embarrassment, mingled with desire, burning his cheeks.  His hands move of his own accord, covering Victor’s and he lets his guard down, lets his head fall back, until he’s resting against Victor’s shoulder.  Victor doesn’t move, merely turns his head a fraction, nuzzling just under Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri suddenly realizes he’s well on the way to full blown arousal.  Victor is so out of his league, both in skill and in person, and Yuuri doesn’t think he could stand the overwhelming humiliation of failure again.  One Sochi is enough for a lifetime.

“Oi, Victor! Stop spending your time on the _dead last_ and train me like you promised!” Yurio’s bellow of indignation can be heard from across the rink.

Yuuri freezes; he feels Victor do the same behind him.  Victor slowly raises his head, and Yuuri can feel the cold air against his heated skin.  Yuuri is confused by Victor’s actions, unsure what he intends with his praise.  For once he’s almost glad to see Yurio, even if he is being obnoxious.  Yurio’s scowl is visible from the boards, his disapproval almost a physical blow that Yuuri can feel.  Russia’s Punk has never been more aptly named.

Yuuri grimaces internally, because he’s been brought up to be polite, and he’s Japanese, dammit. _I’m not dead last_ , he thinks to himself.  _I was, at one point, Japan’s top figure skater_.  Another little voice points out that was before he crashed and burned publicly in Sochi last year.

Victor sighs under his breath, and with a brief touch to Yuuri’s bare wrist, he moves away, skating toward Yurio, as if nothing had just passed between them, as if he hadn’t just been pressed against Yuuri’s body, moving in partnership like familiar lovers.

For Yuuri, it almost feels like a sense of loss.  His body yearns for something he doesn’t understand.  It’s as if he and Victor are connected by an invisible string, and every time Victor moves, that string tugs at Yuuri. 

Yuuri is starting to think he’s beginning to understand the overwhelming pull of Eros, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuuri wakes from sleep, coverlet tangled around his legs, breath coming fast in his throat.  He’s been dreaming again; just like last night.  Things he can’t quite remember, broken images of Victor moving above him, hands on his bare skin, his body stretched tight with the need for release, until he thinks he might break apart like shattered glass.  This is new; he’s never had this problem before Victor appeared.  Now that his idol is within touching distance, has shown himself to be a man and not just a face on a poster, it’s fueled Yuuri’s unschooled imagination a thousand fold.  He has no actual experience to base his dreams on; instead they flit from image to stolen image, his brain inventing any manner of thing to explain what he’s dreaming and feeling.  Yuuri can’t take much more of this before it starts affecting his training.  He needs to fix this, and soon.

There is one thing he _can_ do, has figured out a long time ago on his own.  His hand automatically pushes his t-shirt up, fingers trailing across his heated, sleep-warm skin to the drawstring on his sleep pants.  He pulls the cord, feeling the tightness in his stomach settle further down, in his balls.  His body knows what he intends before his brain consciously decides it.  He spreads his legs just enough, and pushes his hand into his pants, fingers curling around his erection.  He’s hard from the dreams, and release is already close.  He strokes firmly, spreading slick pre-come along his length, and he arches into his hand, head falling back on the pillow.  It won’t take long, and then he can sleep peacefully, or so he hopes.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s head snaps up and his hand freezes on his cock, breath caught in his throat.  He wonders if he imagined that voice, if his mind is continuing to play tricks with him, that he’s wishing for something only his subconscious can supply.

“Yuuri, it’s me; Victor. I’m coming in.”

 _Shit_. Yuuri has just enough sense to remove his hand and pull the coverlet up before the door opens and his idol is standing in his room.  _In his room_.  Yuuri stares, like a deer caught in the headlights, toward the door.  “Victor?” he breathes out, watching as Victor comes into the room, circling around until he’s standing at the foot of Yuuri’s bed.  He’s in just a pair of sleep pants which ride low on his hips and it really doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, Yuuri thinks. 

“Sorry to disturb you,” Victor says, smiling that smile of his.  In the darkness, with just the faint light of the moon, his smile looks almost predatory.  Yuuri realizes Victor isn’t as sorry as he makes out, and wonders how long Victor has been standing outside his door, and if he heard anything. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says, sitting up.  “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You sounded like you were having a nightmare,” Victor says, glossing over the fact that, if he’d actually been in his own room, he wouldn’t have heard anything.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um, no; it was nothing.”  If Victor thought they were nightmares, all the better.  Yuuri feels a little uncomfortable, but doesn’t know how to ask Victor if he was talking during his dreams, or what he may have been saying.  Maybe it would be better to let it drop, rather than draw attention to it.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and then Victor smirks.  “Yuuri! Let’s skate!”

“Eh??” Yuuri realizes he’s probably making some of kind of odd facial expression, but honestly, it’s the last thing he expected Victor to say.  “Skate?” he adds for clarity, his voice heavy with disbelief.  “It’s still dark outside.”

“Yes!” Victor has both hands on his hips and Yuuri has to fight to keep his eyes on Victor’s, rather than elsewhere.  “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I skate,” he explains.  “I often get my best ideas late at night. Let’s go!”

Victor reaches down and wraps a hand in the coverlet, pulling it down past Yuuri’s hips to the end of the bed before Yuuri even has time to react and stop him.  Fortunately, Yuuri’s lost his arousal, although he can still feel that tight, banked heat that tells him he’s going to have to get off sooner rather than later.  Muttering, Yuuri slides from the bed and pointedly looks at Victor; he’s not getting dressed in front of his idol and this is one thing he’s not going to budge on.  Victor takes the hint and leaves the room, promising to meet Yuuri out front in ten minutes.  Yuuri sighs.  He hasn’t known Victor long enough to be able to predict his moods or his actions, yet he instinctively knows that Victor left far too quickly for this to be anything but furthering his own goals.  Yuuri has no idea what those are, but he thinks he’s probably about to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuuri’s been up at strange times of the morning before; he’s used to practicing around dawn, or whenever the rink is free, and quite often it’s at unusual times.  However, he’s never been at the rink at three in the morning, and it’s a good job he has a key to the side door.  He changes into his practice pants and shirt, laces his skates, pulls on his gloves, and makes his way through to the rink. 

The first thing he notices is that Victor hasn’t switched on all the lights in the rink; the ice is lit down the centre, but the edges blend into the darkness, and the boards are hidden in partial shadow.  It makes the vast space feel private, strangely intimate, and Yuuri feels a sudden unexplained sense of breathless excitement and hunger.  He can’t pinpoint where this feeling is coming from; maybe it’s something to do with the primitive side of his brain, he’s not sure. 

Victor’s doing warm up laps around the rink, weaving lazily across the ice with no particular pattern in mind, moving from shadow to light and back again. Watching Victor never fails to bring about that familiar sense of awe; it’s like seeing him move for the first time, every single time, and it’s almost as if Yuuri is compelled to pause in whatever he is doing, just so he can watch.

“Yuuri!” Victor calls out, his voice echoing across the empty space.   “Come onto the ice!”

“Um, shouldn’t I put on the lights?”

“Leave them off.  Come.”  Victor’s voice has a hard, no nonsense edge to it suddenly, and Yuuri is compelled to obey.  He pulls off his skate guards, leaving them on a table, and steps into the shadows, skating toward the light where Victor is waiting, arms loose by his sides, posture relaxed.  He looks in command, a god in his rightful place, and Yuuri wants nothing more than to worship at his feet.  Instead, Victor beckons him over.   Yuuri feels nervous and a little excited at the same time, a strange dichotomy of feelings, both warring within him.   Victor moves closer, until mere inches separate them. 

“I thought you needed more of a _demonstration_ of Eros,” Victor begins.  “We were interrupted yesterday, before I could fully explain.”  Yuuri suddenly has a mental image of the Russian Punk, looking annoyed, and he shakes his head to clear it.  The last thing he wants to think about is Yurio.  “If you are going to pull off this routine successfully,” Victor continues, “you need to appreciate the concept of sexual love, and how your body moves to it.  You can’t dance to something you don’t understand, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuuri agrees.  That much makes sense, he thinks. 

“Okay.”  Victor exhales, lets out a calming breath.  “Do you trust me, Yuuri? Will you place yourself in my hands?”

“I –“ Yuuri splutters; the question is an odd one, and throws him off guard for a moment.  He stares at Victor, but Victor is unmoving, waiting, it seems, for something.  “Yes, I will.” Yuuri looks away, uncomfortable with the intense look on Victor’s face.

“Good.”  Victor smiles, and it is devastating. Yuuri can feel his heart beat faster just with that single smile.  A flash of something half remembered from his dreams surfaces, and the desire he’s been supressing since Victor disturbed him earlier stirs and wakens.    “Come closer,” Victor beckons, and Yuuri skates forward, until they are toe to toe.  Victor slips one leg between Yuuri’s thigh, snaking an arm around his waist, the other around his back.  He moves, turning on point and Yuuri goes with the movement, hands resting at Victor’s waist to balance himself as they spin slowly with just enough momentum to carry them gently across the ice.

“What do you feel?” Victor asks, leaning in. 

His voice is different, Yuuri notes; it’s a little husky, a little more intimate than normal. Yuuri likes the sound of it, wants to hear more.  “How do I feel?”

“Yes.  With me so near… the lights down, the darkness drawing you in, how do you feel?” Victor places a finger under Yuuri’s chin, forcing Yuuri to look into Victor’s eyes, to concentrate.

Yuuri feels nervous, senses kicked into overdrive.  Everything feels more _real_ suddenly, something inside him breathless, waiting.

“Shall I tell you? It’s a primitive gut reaction,” Victor’s hand slides across Yuuri’s hip, moving to cover just below his navel.  “It’s fight or flight; an almost sexual electric charge, centered here.  Your breath comes short, your senses are alive, searching the darkness, you’re prey and some part of your brain knows that.  There’s another part of your brain that wants the excitement, the danger, even though you know you should run.  Can you feel what I’m describing?”

Yuuri nods, swallows around a mouth gone dry.  Victor’s words aren’t obscene, but they are blunt, charging the air between them.  He shifts, feels Victor’s body press against his, and he realizes Victor is hard.  Yuuri tightens his hands on Victor’s waist, feels an answering lust hammer at him suddenly, warming his body with a jolt of longing so strong it’s shocking.

“This is Eros,” Victor breathes against Yuuri’s ear.  “Not the everyday act of sex, which is definitely fulfilling, don’t get me wrong.  No, what you feel now, here, with me, is _Eros_ in its true form—undiluted. It’s that first time, when your senses are so overloaded you can’t cope, your whole body is stretched to breaking point with desire, _need_. There’s nothing like it, Yuuri, and you will never feel this form of Eros again.  Embrace it and learn from it. Skate to it.” Victor slides his hand slowly across Yuuri’s belly, the flat of his hand pressed close, down and then over his erection.  Yuuri’s head falls forward onto Victor’s shoulder and he hears himself moan; it’s involuntary, almost obscene and utterly arousing.  He feels Victor respond, a sharp intake of breath against his ear as Victor rolls his hips, his hand tightening around Yuuri’s back.  Yuuri can actually feel Victor’s cock jerk and his body responds instinctually, seeking more contact.  He hears Victor’s breathless laugh in his ear, feels his lips against the sensitive skin of his neck, and Yuuri’s senses kick further into overdrive.  If this is Eros, it is a drug, overwhelming and wholly addictive, dangerous.  It calls to Yuuri, threatens to sink its fangs into him, and if it wants to devour him, then he’s more than willing to let it happen.

He pushes away from Victor, until he’s a foot away, facing him.  Yuuri is shocked at Victor’s appearance.  His idol is usually so composed, everything in place, neat and tidy.  How Victor looks now; it’s about as far from that as Yuuri has ever seen and it’s an incredible turn on.  Victor looks debauched, color high in his cheek bones, hair a little mussed, blue eyes blown wide with desire.  Yuuri’s stomach does a tight flip at the sight and he feels like he can’t breathe.  He wants though; he can admit that much.  The romantic love he’s always harboured for his unreachable idol has morphed into something darker, more exciting, now that this man is here is front of him.

“Show me, Victor,” Yuuri breathes.  He can’t stop the words from leaving his mouth; he’s too far gone now for shame to rear its ugly head, for common sense to override his desires. He’s been balancing on the edge of sharp desire for hours, ever since Victor interrupted him.

“Yuuri.”  Victor’s eyes narrow, and his hands fist by his sides.  The air between them shifts; it’s almost electric, a frisson of danger. 

“ _Show me_ ,” Yuuri says again, before he panics and flees.  He pushes backward, skating toward the boards slowly, keeping his eyes on Victor’s.  He’s playing with fire, he realizes, and he’ll probably get burned, but somehow that doesn’t really seem to matter right now.

Victor seems to make up his mind, skates lazily toward Yuuri, following him.  Keeping the same distance, they are still dancing together, in sync, in time, and yet despite Victor’s languid movements, its clear his senses are centered firmly on Yuuri, and nothing else is of consequence.

Yuuri is close to the boards now, moving into the shadow, and he glances behind himself to gauge the distance.  As soon as he breaks eye contact, he hears the flash of Victor’s skates as he picks up speed.  Yuuri turns back rapidly, but Victor is right there, in front of him, strong hands on his chest, pushing him the final foot toward the boards.  Yuuri’s back makes contact with the boards and then Victor’s mouth is on his, warm and firm, demanding.  Yuuri sucks in a shocked breath, parting his lips, and Victor takes advantage of that, licking into Yuuri’s mouth.  Yuuri responds, tentatively at first, wrapping his fists in Victor’s shirt.   Victor takes the hint and backs off a little, gentling the kiss.  He wraps his hand around Yuuri’s waist, pulling their bodies flush.  Victor’s other hand slides around his neck, fingers carding through his hair, cupping the nape of his neck.  Yuuri can feel Victor smiling into the kiss, and that alone is enough to calm his heightened senses.  This time he kisses back, tilting his head to explore Victor’s mouth thoroughly, becoming bolder as he gets the hang of it.  He moves his hands from Victor’s shirt, smoothing across the fabric, feeling the muscles beneath, down to his waist where his fingers linger, caressing the sensitive skin there at the base of his spine.  Victor makes a noise, arching his back into the touch, and the kiss become firmer again, with Victor taking the lead once more, until Yuuri is convinced he could do this forever, this give and take between them.

Then Victor is moving, kissing along his jawline, nose brushing into Yuuri’s hair, placing kisses along the line of his neck.  Yuuri tilts his head to the side, but Victor is still holding him still, hand at the nape of his neck, and Yuuri feels that rush of excitement again, making his dick throb.  Victor slips a knee between Yuuri’s, pressing upward, hand moving down to cup his ass.  Yuuri lets out another involuntary moan and begins to move against Victor’s thigh, riding him.  It feels incredible, and Yuuri can feel that tight heat in his gut spread.  He knows this feeling, doesn’t want to stop, because this promises to be an orgasm to remember.

“Hmm, no coming in your pants, Yuuri,” Victor warns, pulling back slightly.  Yuuri pauses, this time flushing with embarrassment, but Victor leans back in for a kiss, smiling.  “I know something you might like,” he says, and his eyes flash with amusement and banked heat, a promise of things to come.  His fingers are at Yuuri’s waistband, pushing the fabric down. Then he pauses, considering.  “Are you sure about this, Yuuri?” he asks. 

Yuuri nods frantically.  Oh _hell yes_ , he’s sure about this. Victor gives him a searching look; it’s clear he’s waiting for something.  He’s not just steamrolling ahead, taking Yuuri’s nod for granted; he wants Yuuri to give him an honest answer, not one based on years of puppy adoration.  Yuuri realizes that Victor will back off if Yuuri says so, so Yuuri searches his mind, looking for logic.  Logic is there, but it’s hidden in the back corner, secondary to this Eros that Victor talks about.  He examines his feelings; realize that, despite the excitement of the situation, the way his body feels, he does want this; has always wanted this but never expected to find it.

“Yes, Victor, I want this,” Yuuri says quickly, before his brain decides he’s too embarrassed to utter the words.

Victor looks a little amazed, and pleased, and the heat returns to his eyes, desire building again.  “Hmm, I glad you said that,” he murmurs, leaning forward for another devastating, slow kiss that Yuuri returns with interest.  Victor slides Yuuri’s pants down past his hips, and Yuuri suddenly feels very naked and exposed, the cool air from the ice caressing over his skin; a counterpoint to the warmth underneath his shirt.  When Victor wraps his hand around Yuuri’s erection, Yuuri moans, unconsciously deepening the kiss, thrusting forward into Victor’s hand.  Victor swipes his thumb over the end of Yuuri’s cock, and Yuuri’s gasps into Victor’s mouth, hands clutching desperately at any skin he can reach.  Victor kisses his way down Yuuri’s neck to his shoulder; it feels incredibly good, but is not enough to put him anywhere close to the edge and Yuuri is starting to feel impatient again, chasing that elusive feeling from before that he craves.

“Let me show you something like I promised,” Victor says, placing a final kiss at the juncture of Yuuri’s neck, and then he’s gone, hand from Yuuri’s cock, and he’s crouched down in front of Yuuri, a secretive yet almost impish look on his face.  Yuuri stares down at Victor, staring back at him, and then Victor reaches out, grasps the base of Yuuri’s erection, and licks it from root to tip like it’s a popsicle, before swallowing him back down.  Yuuri’s body goes taut; partly with surprise, partly because he’s never, _ever_ , experienced anything quite like this and, for a split second, he has no idea what to do. He meets Victor’s eyes, and Victor grins around his cock, like he’s sharing a particularly well-kept secret, before he slowly backs off.  He repeats the same movement, sliding down, wrapping his hand around the base, jacking Yuuri off at the same time.  This feels _sooo_ much better with someone else doing the work, Yuuri thinks.  He’s been missing out on this kind of thing for _years_.  Victor seems to be enjoying the lesson, and Yuuri can’t tear his eyes away from the wet slide of Victor’s mouth, the way his cheeks hollow around his cock.  Yuuri leans into the boards and arches his back, trying to abort the movements his hips want to make, but it’s difficult, and his brain wants to just give into the feelings and sensations he’s experiencing.

Victor pulls back, licking over the tip of his cock, his thumb following, sending another thrill down Yuuri’s spine.  “Let go, Yuuri,” Victor says in his coaching voice, the voice Yuuri can’t help but obey.  This time, when Victor takes him in, Yuuri lets his hips respond; short, abortive movements at first, and when he realizes that Victor isn’t backing away, he lets his body dictate its own rhythm.  Victor makes an approving sound deep in the back of his throat, and Yuuri feels that all the way down to his balls.  His body is tightening, the ache of release building, and Yuuri wants to slide his eyes shut and just _feel_ , but he’s damned if he’s going to look away from the sight of Victor Nikiforov swallowing him down. 

“Ah, Victor.”  The words come unbidden, falling from his lips, and Yuuri reaches out, stroking his fingers along Victor’s cheekbone.  Yuuri is mesmerized by the slow slide of Victor’s mouth, and moves his thumb enough to trace over his lips, stretched around Yuuri’s cock.  Victor’s eyes flutter shut, fingers digging into Yuuri’s hip, and he moans, taking in another inch.  Yuuri gasps, gloved hand carding into Victor’s hair, and for some reason that makes Victor release another one of those incredible noises.  Heat curls deliciously in Yuuri’s gut, his balls tightening, and he tightens his grip in Victor’s hair; he can’t help himself.  Victor hums approval and that’s it; Yuuri comes so hard it’s almost as if he feels something snap inside him.  He curls forward, gasping out a strangled sound of pleasure as Victor swallows everything Yuuri has, his hand working Yuuri through his orgasm until it’s almost painful.  Panting, Yuuri releases his death grip on Victor’s hair and straightens.  His heart is racing, blood coursing through his body and he feels lightheaded with the rush of endorphins.  It’s euphoric and incredible and Yuuri wants to do this over and over again until he’s spent completely, wrung out like a ragdoll. 

Victor finally pulls back, tucking Yuuri into his pants.  “My, my,” Victor says in a breathless voice, “You are beautiful when you come, Yuuri.”  Yuuri knows he should feel embarrassed, but he’s too spent to feel it right now.  Victor looks deliciously mussed, lips red and bruised, and Yuuri watches as Victor swipes at the corner of his mouth with his tongue, that impish smile returning.  Slowly Victor stands, pushes with his skate, gliding into Yuuri’s space.  Yuuri welcomes the kiss when it comes, finding the taste of himself a little… unusual, but not off-putting.  It’s Victor after all; he can recognize his taste below that of himself, and he wants more, putting his feelings into the kiss so Victor knows that. 

Yuuri pulls back slowly, lets his hand rest on Victor’s waist.  “Victor,” he says hesitantly, because this is new, and he doesn’t know what he’s really asking for.  “Can I…?”

Victor smiles.  “Can you what, Yuuri?”

“Can I do the same for you?”  Yuuri is half worried Victor will leave it at that, but Yuuri wants to see what Victor looks like in throes of Eros’ grip, and he’s not about to give in.

Victor looks surprised, and then there’s that smile again, the one that steals hearts.  He lets his body relax against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri can suddenly feel how hard Victor is.  “Let’s start off with something simple,” Victor says, voice low and rough.  He takes Yuuri’s hand, laces his fingers briefly with Yuuri’s and then moves his hand to the waistband of his own pants, pushing them down far enough to release his cock.  Yuuri ignores his immediate inclination to panic in an unfamiliar situation; after all, he’s done this to himself countless times. How hard can it be to do it to another person?  He moves to take off his gloves, but Victor shakes his head.  “Leave them on,” he whispers, “please?”

Yuuri isn’t going to deny Victor anything, so he just nods.  Victor leans in to kiss Yuuri again, and Yuuri opens, letting Victor explore.  He grasps Victor’s cock, starting off slowly, picking up the pace once he figures it out.  Victor gasps into his mouth when he twists slightly at the top of a stroke, so he does it again, spreading slick pre-come along Victor’s length, listening for the sounds Victor makes, gauging his response.  Victor’s now panting into Yuuri’s mouth, the kiss forgotten, occasionally nipping at Yuuri’s lower lip, and Yuuri feels a rush of heady power at the fact that this is Victor before him, hard in his hand, responding to Yuuri’s touch, at the mercy of his whim for just this moment. Victor’s hips move steadily, cock pushing into Yuuri’s gloved hand, hips stuttering now, rhythm faltering as he gets closer.  Yuuri picks up the pace, deepens the kiss, and Victor seems to freeze, gasping Yuuri’s name as he comes, hot seed pulsing over Yuuri’s hand and fingers. 

Time seems to stretch and slow as they both come down from the high; Victor draped boneless over Yuuri, who is pressed into the boards.  For the moment, he’s disinclined to move, as he wants this moment to last forever.  Finally, Victor pulls away, placing a last kiss on Yuuri’s lips before pulling his pants back up. 

“I need to clean up,” Victor says, raising an eyebrow.  “Here.”  He leans over the boards, snagging a box of tissues from the table near by.  “You’ll probably need these.”

“Ah, thank you,” Yuuri replies, staring at his gloved hand as he takes the box.  Maybe it would be better just to take them off, until he can wash them. 

“So,” Victor says, stepping out of the rink, “do you think you have the experience now to skate like that? Can you convey that feeling to the crowd with confidence?”

Yuuri’s face does flush with heat now, because he simply cannot imagine opening himself up to an audience the way he’d just done with Victor.  He might just as well hang a sign across the back wall that said ‘ _I jacked off Victor Nikiforov right here!_ ’ because it would be obvious to anyone who knew him well, which was, unfortunately, most of Hasetsu. 

Victor’s behind him now, and he leans over the boards to place a kiss on Yuuri’s lips quickly.  “I see we need to practice more,” Victors purrs, voice intimate, insinuating a lot more than mere skating.  “Warm up, Yuuri, and when I get back, we will skate properly, yes?”

Yuuri nods.  Part of him was hoping he’d get to slink back to his bed, but the other part of him isn’t surprised.  He has a competition to win at the weekend, and he’s willing to put in as much practice in and out of the rink as Victor feels he needs. 

That’s what a coach is for after all, isn’t it?

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Skate Like a Lover, Dream with Desire by Caeseria [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634937) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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